Assassin
by xXxNatalyaxXx
Summary: They were the best without a doubt. They always had been. Then, he came along, A lone assassin, practically unpredictable, and what she thought was surely unbeatable, but they said otherwise. Because he was a threat to the system. And for once, She didn't know why.
1. Prologue

_Father's sat at his desk when we walk in. He's typing something; I don't know what. As always, there are two chairs in front of him. I glance around the room, to see if anything has changed, but, as usual, nothing has changed. He still has the same wallpaper, the same desk, and the same chairs. I've always wondered why he refused so profusely to redecorate his office._

 _We sit in the two chairs in front, and he finally looks up at us from the screen of his laptop._

 _"You have a task. Recruit this boy. Use any means possible. If this boy is not recruited, he will be considered a threat to The System," he says as he places a file on the desk.  
"If the boy proves resistant," he stares at us. "Terminate him."_

 _I pick up the file, and open it, leaning to the side so that Jonathan can see. It's about a boy, named the same as Jonathan._

 ** _Name: Jonathan Christopher Herondale_**

 ** _Age: 18_**

 ** _Born: 17 July 1997, London, England_**

 ** _Gender: Male_**

 ** _Family: Stephen Herondale  
(Father)_**

 ** _Celine Herondale  
(Mother)_**

 ** _Alias: Jace, Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein_**

 ** _Height: 6'0_**

 ** _Hair: gold_**

 ** _Allies: Alec Lightwood  
(best friend)_**

 ** _Isabelle Lightwood  
(best friend)_**

 ** _Jordan Kyle_**

 ** _Magnus Bane_**

 ** _Simon Lewis_**

 ** _Fate: alive_**

 ** _"Is a lone assassin, using only himself and his resources. He has a certain skill set, and is practically unpredictable,"_**

 _I closed the file, and stood up at the same time as Jonathan._

 _"It shall be accomplished, Father," Jonathan says._

 _And as we walk out of the office, I wonder why it is so important that this boy must either be brought in or terminated. And more as to why he is so important._

* * *

 _Hello. So, i decided, this is going to be posted. it's been on my mind for a while, and i want to know what people think. if i get good comments, i'll update. if I don't, i'll update when i'm ready anyway. :-)_

 _basically, tell me what you think and how i should progress on from here._


	2. Nightlights

_Smoke_ , she thought hazily. _It was definitely smoky_. She was at one of those clubs, the ones with smoke machines, flashing strobe lights and swaying, drunk-on-music bodies, hoping that Jonathan – the one who was not her brother - hadn't changed his plans of coming here. She wore a short black cocktail dress, up to the knees and flaring out at the waist, which she hoped gave her some form of desperately wanted curves. She had made sure that when she'd picked the dress, she would be able to move in it, because she saw no point in clothes that weren't practical. Not stylish? She could handle. Not practical? That was too far. She wore flats for this occasion, because she knew there was going to be some kind of dancing, and quite frankly, she never was _quite_ able to walk in heels.

She'd had specific training for that, training and fighting in dresses and heels. What she managed to find out was that it was _much_ easier to _run_ in heels than figuring out how to _walk_ in them.

Jonathan was pressed against her. They'd agreed beforehand that they would dance together, to keep up appearances for the plan, but as soon as the boy is spotted, Jonathan was to wait at the safe house a few blocks from here, and she was to lure (seduce) the boy in to following her home.  
But, in her opinion, it didn't make her feel any less worse about practically _kidnapping_ the boy, with her back pressed up firmly against Jonathan's chest.

"Why so tense, sister?" He said with a low voice near her ear. She shivered slightly. He was teasing her, knowing how uncomfortable she felt at such close proximity. She tried to shift in his grasp, but his arms stayed firmly locked around her waist. He laughed, and she felt his chest reverberating. Then, abruptly his grip loosened, and he said sharply,

"Look. He's here,"

She gazed in the direction he'd turned her to, and saw the Herondale talking to a girl with brown hair that he has twisted around his finger. His golden-blonde hair was hard to miss, even in the neon strobe lights, and the black shirt he wore made his hair stand out even more. But, that - or rather, _she_ \- complicated the mission slightly. They hadn't accounted for the boy to be interacting with other females.

Jonathan spins her to face him, a half-smile plastered on his face as he speaks.

"Ooh, competition, little sister," he whispers in her ear. "Remember the plan," he says, giving her the ghost of a kiss against her cheek, before flashing an evil smirk and slipping away into the crowds.

He was such an _evil_ boy. He knew she didn't like that kind of intimacy. One day, he wasn't going to wake up, because she will have slit his throat.

She gets herself a drink, because she couldn't think of something to pass the time, other than dancing. She hastily rejected that thought though, because she wasn't very fond of sore feet. She looked back in the direction of Herondale, but the boy had disappeared, even though the blonde girl remained dancing alone. She turned her head slightly, surveying the club. Then she spotted him again. He was - oh, by the angel, he was walking this way.

She was so close to hyperventilating. She was overreacting, and the rational part of her brain tried to reason with her that he wasn't coming to talk to her. Of course, ten seconds later, he was at the bar, asking for two drinks. Of course, she realised. He was getting drinks for himself and the girl he was with, like every normal person and their date would do. He turned his head slightly, in her direction, and she looks down at her drink will she sips. She desperately wants to turn away from him, his gaze so intense that she can feel it, even though she wasn't looking at him. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she glanced up at him.

A moment passed.

He stared.

His eyes were mesmerising, a beautifully unnatural shade of gold. He had such a beautiful face. If the circumstances had been different, she may have considered forming an attachment to him. The thought was quickly pushed aside. She wanted to look away, but she somehow couldn't, captured in his gaze. Then, as if breaking her from a trance, he spoke.

"You know, a girl like you shouldn't be out this late," he said. She laughed, a quiet sound against the background noise.

"Oh? And what kind of girl is that?" she replied. She watched his mouth curve up in a half-smile, much like Jonathan's.

"A girl who follows' her parent's every command." He said. "She's lost, and all she can do is do is she's told, because she is much too scared of the consequences if she ever acted."

She raised an eyebrow. He'd guessed that one very well.

"And what do you think I should do about that?" She said breathlessly.

"Something reckless."

He stood up, pushing his stool back, and offered his hand to her, forgetting all about his drinks.

"Don't you already have a girl waiting on you?"

"She's just a friend."

She looked at his outstretched hand.

"I don't even know your name," she said in response. Well, she did, but he didn't know that, nor did he need to.

"Jace," he stated. "My name is Jace."

She smiled.

"Clary," She said, as she places her hand in his.

* * *

In their process to do something reckless and probably wildly atrocious, Clary noticed a number of things. Firstly, Jace had an unorthodox beauty about him, almost angelic, with his high cheekbones, long eyelashes, full mouth and blonde hair. Even the curve of his throat had its own beauty. Secondly, she was so small. Her hand was so tiny compared to his, and he was much taller than her. Then, she thought of her brother, waiting in the safe house. How was she to get Jace in there? She was sure he would notice something. But, she still let him hail a cab, and when he said for her to pick an address, she gave the address of her safe house. Jace didn't seem to notice.

They ran down the street together, and she pulled out the key to the house from her bag. It was just an ordinary key. They walked in, and she stood still for a second, contemplating what she was about to do. Was it a good idea? Would he fall for it? Would Jonathan walk in too late? She turned towards Jace, and without further thinking, she pressed her lips to his.

His hands slipped down to her waist, drawing her close, while her arms looped themselves around his neck. Then, somehow she was against the wall, and they were making out, and it was all too much, and then - all too soon, she thought - he broke it off.

"Was that reckless enough for you?" She said breathlessly. He was staring into her eyes, almost as if he was looking into her soul. She didn't dare close them, for fear of betraying some kind of information that she was meant to keep from him.

"Definitely," He replied. Then, he added in a whisper, "Valentine's daughter."

Her head jerked back involuntarily, her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. How did he know that? No one knew that. No one had ever been told that she was Valentine Morgenstern's daughter. He couldn't possibly know that, unless he had somehow managed to get into The Systems files, which her father had always insisted be in paper, so that no one could hack them from outside. And if Jace couldn't have hacked from outside, then he must have either had informants and spies, or he went and looked through the files himself. She didn't know which idea scared her worse.

She tried to wriggle free from his grasp, but she was in such a compromising position, with his body pressed against hers, so she didn't exactly have room to move. He gripped her hands by the wrists, pinning them to the walls. Without thinking, she cracked her skull against his, and he grunted and let go of her, rubbing his forehead in pain. He was much bigger than her, and he being male gave him the advantage of strength, but it also gave him the disadvantage of having weak spots that she didn't. What had her training taught her? _Don't fight on other's terms. You are small, Use that as defence. Being small gives you an advantage of speed against bigger opponents._ She dodged the first strike. She punched back, a quick jab to his side, and it hit him hard, but didn't seem to make a difference. She needed a lot more strength, but it was hardly her fault that he was rock-hard. Where the hell was Jonathan?

He threw a punch to her stomach, and she flew backwards, with the wind knocked out of her, crashing painfully into the wall. She moaned in pain _._ Suddenly, he slumped and collapsed to the ground, and she looked up at Jonathan, who was standing in the doorway with a tranquilising gun in his hand.

"Where the hell were you?" She said weakly.

* * *

 _Hey guys! It's a longer chapter! Yay! Please review! We'll get an insight on Jace in the next chapter!_


	3. Golden

Jace was special. He'd known that much. He had... Gifts - of a sort. Gifts that he couldn't show the world, for risk of the wrong people knowing. He didn't want that. He knew from enough movies he'd watched when he was younger that whenever a person has a power, the wrong people managed to get hold of them, to experiment and misuse their powers out of jealousy and fear. And yet, ever since he'd jumped out of the building with the fire that had killed his parents and lived himself, he just knew that he was going to be different. It just wasn't normal to jump so far and land so easy.  
And that was when his life first changed.

He used this as an advantage in his profession as an assassin. It made him better at what he did, and clients who came to him for his services did not come to question his skills, but to admire them and have a job done quickly, cleanly. If he was given gifts, he wouldn't put them out of use, for better or for worse. He hadn't thought that anyone would try to track him down just because he was a sort of competition to them.  
He hadn't thought of that at all.

* * *

Jace woke to the sound of heels striking the grey slab of stone that they called ground. He looked up to see Clary standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. The boy - Jonathon, who looked between 17 and 20 and had sat in a chair, in a relaxed stance, but he wasn't fooled. Jace sat in a chair as well, tucked in to a table in the middle of the room. It appeared to be normal, two boys at a table talking, but on closer examination, it was anything but. Jace had his hand chained in cold hard steel behind his chair, the seat itself embedded into the floor. His ankles were also chained to the legs of the chair. There was no way for him to break the chains, even with super strength, and he knew that if he pulled any tricks, they'd take him down immediately.  
So instead, he wondered what that beautiful red-headed girl would have to say to him.

Her brother, Jonathon, had spent the last hour trying to get him to answer questions about himself, his associates, family and friends. Then, when he realised that Jace wasn't going to talk him, he resorted to intense starting contests, his green eyes trying to burn through his own gold ones. It didn't seem to intimidate Jace, nor affect him in any way whatsoever, and at first, Jace thought this irritated Jonathon and he would use violence to beat whatever information he wanted out of him; instead the boy had just come closer to inspect him, holding his face between his fingers. It was most perplexing to him. Then after a few minutes of intense, rather off-putting staring, he let go, and spoke.

"I know what you're thinking," he said first. "Why haven't I beaten you up yet?" He gives a short laugh. If he wasn't an assassin, being practically sworn off of attraction, Jace was sure he would be sleeping with half the girls in the facility. Or he could do, if he wanted. He wasn't sure If Jonathon swung that way.

"I'm not going to use violence, because I know you don't respond well to it." He replies knowingly. It didn't sit well with Jace, the tone that Jonathon spoke with. He seemed to talk with genuine ease, as if they were good friends that were just discussing the next football match that they were going to play. He couldn't think of why he was being like this, and it was deeply unsettling for him.

Jace felt confused, and he must have looked confused as well, because Jonathon laughed again.

"I'm going to let the pretty girl over here do the talking now. Play nice," And as Jace caught the hint of a smirk, a word that no child should ever hear was spoken in his mind.  
Asshole.

Strangely enough, he'd known that Clary had been there to talk to him as soon as he saw her at the club. He'd seen her gazing at him, and he might have passed it off as her admiring his good looks, but she stared at him in almost curiosity, as if he was something foreign, almost alien to her. And when he got closer, he could see the question written plainly on her face. What was he?

Clary walked forwards slowly towards him. She wore tight black trousers, leather in material, and a black jacket to match, her sleeves rolled up to reveal red lining and pale, freckled skin. He noticed the slight limp she had when she walked, and he wondered if he had actually punched her that hard. He felt immoral, for fighting a girl. It just seemed wrong. Alas, He thought, If he followed that rule, he would have never got anywhere in life. She sat down where her brother had sat before her, dumping the files from her arm on the table.

"Hello, Jace," She said to him cautiously. She was so pretty. He looked at her, questioning what she had in common with her brother. The most obvious things were her eyes…

"Freckles," he stated simply. Of course Jonathon had freckles like her. Why hadn't he noticed before?

"What?" She replied, not comprehending his one word statement.

"You and your brother have freckles. Of course, yours are much more obvious than his, but you both have freckles." He pauses, and then adds: "it's kind of cute,"

Her face goes through a series of changes; first shock, then amusement, and then finally, a blush, red and hot flushing her cheeks. It made her lips look redder, somehow, and Jace was ridiculously attracted to it. He had the urge to laugh. She bit her lip; he was sure that she could see the laughter on his face. A weird thought crossed his mind. Why would he want to be the one to bite her lip? Did he want to kiss her? He'd kissed her before. It had been good, everything a kiss should be. Why were these thoughts even going through his head? Oh hell, did he fancy her? He couldn't afford to think like that. Her hand was being waved in his face. Was she talking to him? Shit.

"Sorry, what was the question?" He asked, feeling rather stupid.

The amusement was back on her face.

"I said, how did you know that I was looking at you? At the club?" She repeats slowly. Really?

"Instinct," he said simply.

She started collecting up her papers, organising them into a pile, and then placing them back on the table. He stared at her as she looked back up at him.

"Aren't you going to ask me about myself?" he asked.

"No. I already know so much. I know when you were born, where you were born, who your friends are, what you're like. What else would I need to know?" She replied matter-of-factly.

He almost laughed at her self-assurance; instead his mouth curved up in a smirk. She thought she knew so much, but she really didn't know that much in the slightest. Not much at all.

"I'm going to cut to the chase here, okay? Essentially, my father, Valentine," She started, "Which you already know," muttered under her breath, "Wants you to join the System. He thinks it would be beneficial for the greater good, and for you. He thinks it will help you push past the limits of the world outside, and work with others. I don't know why you matter so much to him, but you do. So, he wants you to work for us. If you agree, good for you. If you don't, you die. It's nothing personal, but he thinks you are too much competition. Like they say, if you can't beat them, join them, except he's sort of forcing you to join him. I don't know, his mind works differently to the average person. Besides, if you do decide to join, we can train together, maybe, to see if you can beat me." Jace could hear the softness in her voice as she spoke the last sentence, but there was something Jace couldn't decipher in her voice…

…Was it longing?

Whatever it was, Jace couldn't think about it. He had a choice to make. Did he take his chances of escaping? Or should just accept Valentine Morgenstern's offer? If it meant getting closer to Clary…

"Okay," he said.

Clary looked surprised.

"Really?" She said.

"Really,"

A genuine smile crossed his face. She sounded so hopeful, almost childlike with her words; something that Jace hadn't had in a long time.

Hope.

* * *

 ** _Hello. Hi. Two months too late, not good. I know. Sorry. Still, exams mean revision. Revision means no free time. Reviews are welcome. Because you know, they really class as encouragement. But! I want to know what you like, what you don't! Tell me of my mistakes. I am so terrible at spellchecking and auto-correct; just ask anyone who's ever texted of messaged me. I hope his story doesn't drag, and I already know wat I want in h next chapters, which is a first for me. Okay bye. Reviews. Reviews._**


	4. Dreams

If you get this, meet me in the 11th corridor.

He scrunched the note into his pocket before anyone sees.

The 11th corridor. The deadest corridor in the building.

What would someone be doing there?

Jace shoves his hand into his pockets, before taking a brisk walk to the corridor. He encounters one of the girls, a friend of his, Isabelle.

 _Hi._

 _Hi._

 _Where are you going?_

 _Places._

 _Can I come?_

 _He thinks it over. Isabelle was trustful enough._

 _Sure._

They walk onwards together.

They wait at the corridor. It seems like ages, and they were about to leave, until a tiny redheaded girl popped out from the side.

 _Hi_ , she said breathlessly.

 _Hi_? Jace said back.

 _I'm Clary._

 _Isabelle._

 _Jace._

 _Pleased to make your acquaintance_ , she said.

Clary took a deep breath before speaking again.

 _I want to get out of here._

 _What? They'll never let you!_

 _I know. It's why we have to escape._

 _Well, I know which guard keeps the keys to the doors. I could… persuade him into giving them._

There was a look in her eyes that Clary knew she was able to trust. Determination was what they needed at that time. And Clary needed all the help she could get.

 _Okay, here's the plan,_ she said.

* * *

Isabelle tried to look good. Of course, it wasn't easy when she only had grey to wear. Nothing brighter or something that held a little more allure. Maybe something red. Or purple. She liked the sound of that. Oh well. She supposed this would have to do.

She pushed him up against the wall. She hadn't bothered to find out his name.

 _You- you aren't my type_ , he tried.

Isabelle laughed.

 _I'm everyone's type._

 _Not mine._

 _Really? So what is your type?_

 _I- I like shorter girls._

 _I'm too tall for you? You're no fun_! She said cheerfully.

At least she tried.

* * *

 _Hey, Clary._

Clary looked up to see Isabelle.

 _What's up? Did you get it?_

 _Um, actually, there's a change of plans_ , Isabelle said slowly.

 _Why?_

 _He likes them short. I guess you're going to have to go!_ She smiled.

Clary wished that the plan would go smoother.

* * *

Clary slid her hand into the now unconscious guard's drawers, fishing out the keys, before slipping away through the door. She locked the door after herself. It had been easier that she thought. Once the key was safely in her pocket, she hummed herself to the 11th corridor.

 _Tell me you have it_ , Jace said.

 _I'm so bored I could drown_ , was Isabelle's input.

Clary smiled. She waved the key in their faces, before flicking her hand in a motion for them to follow her.

* * *

They thought it was going well. That was, until the guards stopped them. They stood still or a total of three seconds, and Clary knew, because she had counted. Then, it was all a bit of a blur. Jace moved first, kicking one of the men and letting him go down in pain. Isabelle and Clary moved seconds later, attacking the others. They were clearly outnumbered.

 _Go_! Isabelle cried to them.

 _I can hold them off!_

 _No! You'll get hurt!_ Jace shouted back to her.

 _Don't argue with me Jace! Just go!_

Without warning, he took hold of Clary's wrist and tore down the corridor.

 _Jace_ , she said.

 _Jace, stop_. He wouldn't listen.

 _Jace, please! Isabelle is going to be fine! She'll get herself out._

 _But I should have stayed and helped_ , he said quietly.

 _She didn't want you to. She wanted you to get out. She wants you to live. So let's go._

 _Okay_.

And then they see another guard walk towards them.

* * *

 _Do something_! She says urgently.

He pushes her against the wall, pressing his body to hers. She has a sharp intake of breath.

 _Jace_ , she hisses.

He keeps his left hand held to her hip, the other cupping the side of her neck.

He looks at her.

 _Trust me_ , he says.

He presses a slight kiss to Clary's skin.

 _But you just met me._

She closes her eyes, and her lips part at the sensation.

She doesn't complain.

The guard looks at them and walks on without a second glance.

And Jace doesn't stop.

He bites her gently, pulling at the skin with his teeth. She makes a noise of approval, and he sucks it slightly.

Clary felt... content. Content to have Jace, a boy she had just met with such a pretty face, kissing her neck like this. He made her forget, forget everything...

And then it hit her. Oh, it hit her like a bomb. The reason she had been here in the first place. She kissed a boy. She liked it. Oh, how she had liked it. But she had been caught, and sent here.

 _No! Father, please_! She had shouted. But they still took her away. They still came for her.

They still gave her the treatment.

She'd never be able to have a different life. A family, even.

They had taken all of that away, while she was still kicking and screaming through soundproof walls.

There were four of them, all wearing white. They forced general anaesthetic on her, and then she was under.

She didn't remember the process. She was lucky she wasn't conscious.

Maybe the boy was castrated. With a gun. Clary didn't know. She didn't particularly want to know. She had been too upset for herself and her condition.

She shoved Jace away from her.

 _No_ , she said sadly. _Not you too._

 _Come, I know how to get out of here._

She clasps her hand in his.

They open the door.

The alarm goes off as they reach the last door. Jace flings it open to see the dark sky outside. He takes a deep breath, pulling Clary along with him to the towering gates in front.

He pauses.

 _I'll throw you._

 _What?_

 _You've had training. You'll be able to land._

 _But what about you_ , she said.

 _I won't let you stay here too!_

He smiles slightly at her childish insistence.

 _I can get over._

Jace moves towards the gate, and Clary moves away.

She breaks into a run.

He crouches down.

3.

2.

1.

 _Impact_.

She goes flying up, rolling as she got to the top and over the gate. Landing in a crouch, she looked up at Jace expectantly.

He jumps straight up, with no momentum of any kind, straight over the fence and hitting the ground beside her.

 _It's why you were there_? She said with wide eyes.

 _It's why I was there._

There's a sudden burst of light, and Clary could just about make out the fast approaching cars. Of course. They had sent for reinforcements. The darkness was running towards her. She must have been so tired. Then she heard the noise of what sounded like a dart gun, before Jace crumpled to the ground beside her.

 _Jace_!

But she had no time. They knocked her out, too.

* * *

Clary woke up in the back of a car. Wait, what? No! where was Jace? Why wasn't he there? She had to get out, she had to save Jace, and Isabelle…

Her thoughts were jarred by the sound of Jonathon's voice. Her brother had come to save her.

 _Jonathon_ , she sighed in relief.

 _Where are you taking me?_

 _Home_ , he said softly.

 _I'm taking you home._

* * *

When she gets there, she sees her father first. The words come off of his mouth.

It was necessary. The words echoed, and it was all she needed to break down, collapse to the floor in sobbing fits. She stayed there, until a person came to escort her to her room. They picked her up, her kicking and screaming, and took her to her room. She was placed in her bed. And there she lay, curled up in her bed, crying herself softly to sleep.

Her father walks in a few hours later. He watches her sleep, a feeling of sadness creeping over him. He hadn't wanted this life for her. He wanted her to be free, to have a life, family, even children. But he also hadn't wanted to tell her that her mother had run away with another man. He didn't want to tell her that the procedure was a lie, that it was a show for the other students. He didn't want her to hate him.

His only girl. His beautiful little child. His reason to live.

He took the needle. He couldn't deal with the guilt.

A whole week was erased from Clary's memory.

* * *

 _ **Hey, so I know I've been out of commission lately, but school is getting to me, my grades are dropping and writing is becoming difficult. I feel like i'm kind of sucking at writing, and i don't even know what i'm doing anymore. anyway, it's stressful.**_

 _ **Also, its 23:40, which is too late, and i have school next week, and i haven't done any work, so yay. How are you all, i hope you're well :-)**_


	5. It Begins

"And this is the training room," Clary said as they walked in. It was a massive open room, the walls painted white and decorated with a variety of different weapons for students to use. Near the edges of the room, plastic dummies were placed - evenly spaced from each other. They also were for training purposes. Jace took note of the fact that the room seemed to have no windows.

She had so far taken him to see the eating and sleeping quarters, the bathrooms and the showers, and the rooms for interrogations, which they had originally walked out of. The building was filled with grey walls and floors, all made of stone. It was as if the designer of the place had wanted the rooms to be as bleak as humanely possible.

He watched carefully as two black haired students, dressed in black fitted t-shirts and loose grey trousers, were sparring with long staffs. Each was as skilled as the other, and it seemed as if the fight was never going to end, until the boy made a mistake, and the girl was able to smack her staff against his knees so that he fell. Jace thought he recognised them, or at least he thought he recognised the boy…

Clary snapped her fingers sharply in front of his face.

"Pay attention! I'm not repeating anything, and you need to know where everything is for schedules" she said to him blankly.

"What are they wearing?" He replied, still staring at the two students.

"Standard training uniform. Don't worry, you'll get it too."

His face crinkled in distaste at the idea of having to wear uniform, but soon changed in astonishment, because he knew who the boy was.

"Alec?" He said. Alec turned his face to him in shock, and it confirmed Jace's suspicions.

"You're here? But-" He stopped speaking as he realised what had happened. Of course that had happened. How was it even a surprise? He'd always had his information given to him by Alec. He couldn't blame Alec for handing Jace's own information to the organisation that he worked for. Not really.

"Jace," He breathed. "Jace - I'm sorry," he said quickly, but Jace wasn't listening. He was wondering whether Isabelle was here too; the other black haired girl couldn't possibly been her. For a start, she was shorter than the Isabelle he remembered had been, and her eyes were dark blue like Alec's own, not the brown that Isabelle's were.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by the arrival of Clary's brother, him announcing that Jace was to go see 'Mr. Morgenstern,' as Jonathan had called him. He followed him to the other end of the room, glad of his brisk walking pace.

"So, you know that Alec is here?" He says conversationally. Jace could hear the smile in his voice, yet chose to remain silent.

"His sister is here too, if you wanted to know," he added after a pause.

There it was again. He always seemed to know just what Jace was thinking. What was it that gave Jace away? The real question here; was he able to trust Jonathan?

Jonathan waved his hand in front of his face. He pushes the door open, lets Jace walk in.  
He walks away.

A man sits at the desk,

"Jonathan Herondale," He says.

"You're Jonathan Morgenstern's father," Jace replies.

The man smiles.

"I knew you were a fine recruit. Most students who study here do not notice the resemblance. Clearly, today i have chosen well," he pauses for a second, to pull a laptop out.

"I am Valentine Morgenstern," he says he says before continuing.

"The Academy takes on the finest of humanity, to train them as soldiers, spies of a sort, or as many of them like to think, _assassins._ These are given the most important missions, or kills by other clients. You are now a most valued asset in the coming wars.

"You shall be trained in the higher class. There will be no slacking, no violence towards others, and no fraternizing."

Jace looks ahead, his gaze slightly downwards. That word had such potential. What counted at fraternizing?

"You may proceed to the boys dormitories. Good day, Jonathan," Valentine says with an air of finality.

Okay then.

Jace wandered down the corridor, wondering what to do with his new found information. He found the dormitories quite easily, recalling the information that Clary had given him. There were block plaques on each door, and he wondered if they had been fast enough to get him on a door. Then he saw it.

 _Jonathon Morgenstern._

 _Jace Herondale._

They had to be kidding him. Sharing a room? With him? Couldn't they have made him different and put him on his own? Of course not. There were so many unnecessary _rules_ at The System. What even was the point of him being here? Oh yes. Clary. He wanted to be closer to her. Because he was confused about her. There was something unnaturally familiar about her, as if he had met her before, but he couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember? Jace knew the answers were here, in the System. He just _knew_.

Jonathon opened the door, to find Jace, stood, almost trance-like.

"Can I help you?" he said, for lack of better words.

"Yeah. Why do we have to share a room?" Jace replied. Jonathon smirked.

"That's easy enough. I had my own room, every other room is full, and you decided to turn up half-way through the year, so now you're sharing with me." Jace raised an eyebrow at him.

"I think that's the straightest answer you've ever given me," He said after some thought. Jonathon laughed. Clearly, I was going to be easier to live with this boy than he had thought.

"Well. I do aim to please," He said, letting Jace through the door before walking away.

God, these people were abrupt, Jace thought, as he observed the room. It was plain, black and white, bedding and curtains white, the walls and floor black. Two of everything, beds, desks, shelves, wardrobes. And there were no windows. Probably to stop people from escaping. On top what he assumed was his bed, was a dark t-shirt and a pair of grey trousers. _Standard uniform._ He didn't want to wear it. But Jace wasn't about to break the rules just yet. He slipped into the clothes, which fit him well. He wasn't surprised. They probably knew everything they possibly could about him.

Not that he really cared.

* * *

 ** _I know it's short. I just really needed it to get off my drafts. I'm stressed. I'm having issues. I have a serious case of fucking writer's block. It's awful. However, it is the holiday's for me, which is potentially lucky for you. Depends on how i feel. And right now i feel sick._**

 ** _Anyway. You should all listen to AURORA - Running with the wolves, because it's great. And happy Easter._**

 ** _Also, I need ideas. Lots and lots of ideas. Help me._**

 ** _Oh, and one more thing. If anybody is interested, i started writing a story about Jonathan and Isabelle, because i ship them, and i need someone to read it because i think it's a little shit and i need help. So yeah._**

 ** _Please review :-)_**


	6. The Truth Is Never The Easy Way

Unsurprisingly, Jace was the first ever be sent on a mission with the famous Jonathan Morgenstern. It was no rumour that he never went with anyone other than his sister, and the fact that he was first roomed with him, and then sent out with him, was all the compound could talk about.

And God was it annoying.

Jace could appreciate being the centre of attention. Hell, he even enjoyed it. But this? This was a constant source of whispers and annoyance, one that he couldn't seem to rid himself of.

He walked with confidence, however, making his way to the entrance with a black bag slung over his shoulder.

Jonathan greeted him with a nod, and Jace took notice of the dark brown dyed hair.

"Are you ready?" He said.

"Of course," Jace replied. "Who wouldn't be ready to work alongside the all-famous Jonathan Morgenstern?"

The corner of Jonathan's mouth curved up, but there was distaste in his next words.

"When you're almost a carbon copy of your father; people figure thinks out a lot quicker than expected."

Hr considered this, pushing his golden blond hair out of his face.

"I suppose."

Jonathan pushed the door open, gesturing for Jace to go first. He shrugged and walked out.

* * *

They made their way through the streets quickly. Having deposited their things and changed from gear into suits at a safe house, the boys went over the brief. Specific details seemed to stick in Jace's head, like the unusual name, Lucian Graymark, and the fact that they were only to retrieve information about his base.

They discussed the plan briefly, for them to go in and ask about interior design, because that was the building Graymark worked at.

"Okay, so it's called Fray Designs. He goes under the name Luke Garroway, and we arranged a meeting with him. I think the idea is to search his office for any traces of a different line of work," Jonathan said.

Jace held up his hand.

"If he knows your father, wouldn't he automatically recognise you?" He inquired.

"I've already thought about that," he replied turning around. When he faced Jace again he looked completely different. His skin looked ridiculously pale and his dyed hair looked somehow darker. Having green eyes brought colour to his complexion but almost black washed him out.

"Contacts. How does that help? Now you look more like him."

He put huge geeky style glasses on. Jace looked at him. Jonathan looked back with this sort of bashful look. He burst out laughing.

* * *

"Hi, we have an appointment with Luke Garroway?" Jonathan said, smiling politely.

"What are your names?" She said, logging into the computer, opening up different tabs.

"Sebastian Verlac and Jonathan Wayland."

Jace felt like he needed to hold his breath.

Innumerable things could go wrong

"Please take a seat," she said, gesturing graciously. "You will be seen in a moment."

They sat down and waited. Jace hated waiting. His leg started bouncing up and down. Jonathan, however, sat perfectly poised, his stillness reminding Jace of a painting.

Then a woman opened a door, her red hair visible from miles away. She spoke their names and Jonathan sneezed.

"Jace- You're going to have to go on your own," he said, sneezing again.

"Wait, what?" He spluttered. "Why?"

"I have to go, I'm sorry,"

And then he got up and left.

What the hell?

"Mr Wayland!" The woman called again.

He got up quickly and apologised to the woman.

"My roommate seems to have caught a bug. He's gone home," Jace said quickly, trying to come up with a believable lie. Was that the best he could do?

"Are we able to continue without him?" She asked.

"Yes, of course," Jace said plainly.

She shifted in her seat. "I'm Jocelyn, Jocelyn Fray. I'm one of the consultants here. You talk to me about what you're looking for, and then I help you through the design process."

Jace nodded, looking at her. She had a familiar face, one that he couldn't seem to place.

"Sorry, I'd like to ask a question. We were told that we would see Mr Garroway. You, however, are not him. Why is that?"

"Mr Wayland, I'm sorry-"

"Call me Jonathan."

"Ja- Jonathan, he's on urgent business at the moment," she frowned.

"And are you sure you couldn't rearrange this meeting, to a date that he was available?" Jace said, leaning forward.

"I suppose I could speak with the receptionist to rearrange the meeting,"

"Would you be able to do that now?" Jace seemed to be rubbing of on the woman's patience.

"Yes. I shall speak with here now. Would you mind staying here?" She said, half exasperation, half politeness.

"Of course not," he said, giving what he knew was an attractive smile.

She left him, there, and once he was sure she would not return, he sprang out of his seat and went to the dark grey draws. He pulled the first draw open, sifting through records quickly. By the time he had reached the bottom and found nothing useful, Jace could hear her footfall getting closer to the door. He sat back down in his chair.

"Thank you for the wait. Your appointment has been moved to next week. Is that all, Jace?"

He shook his head in affirmation.

"Thank you for your time."

He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He walked past the receptionist, out the glass doors of the entrance. Jace's walk was brisk back to the safe house, and as he knocked on the door with a hard fist, he realised.

Jocelyn Fray had called him Jace, and the only way she could've known that was if she'd recognised him. Which she had. And he recognised her, with the same figure as clary, same facial structure as Jonathan, the same grass green eyes. Her name was Jocelyn, and she must have been their mother.

At that moment, Jonathan opened to door, looking apologetic.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry I left you there-"

But Jace didn't want an apology. He did what his instincts told him. He punched Jonathan in the face.

* * *

Jonathan didn't know what to do. He hadn't realised she'd be there, hadn't even considered it.

He'd known for a while that his mother had been alive; his father found it harder to lie to him than to Clary.

But to almost run into her, have all his work go down the drain. Even with the contacts and the glasses, he knew his mother would have recognised him. So he had to run, had to ditch Jace…

Jace. What was he going to say to him?

 _Oh hey, I'm sorry I ran off but that was my mom and I didn't want to see her?_

A loud knock resounded through the room, interrupting his thoughts.

He went to the door, opened it, said the first words coming to mind.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry I left you there-" he started, and it occurred to him that he sounded like they'd broke up, but Jace's fist slammed into his cheekbone before he could say anything else.

"When were you going to say that she was your mother?" He said, a mask of calm going over his face.

"I was going to tell you now, but clearly, you thought punching me was a better idea," he replied, casually, making sure his words wouldn't anger Jace more.

Jace didn't react. He stood there, folding his arms.

"So tell me."

Jonathan smiled slightly.

"It's a long story-," he began.

"We've got time."

Jonathan sighed.

* * *

"When I was nine, my mother - Jocelyn Fairchild - had an affair with Lucian Graymark, father's second-in-command of all people.  
At the time, they had all worked at the compound, but then Lucian left, and my mother stayed. I think she stayed so that she could still be with Clary.  
After two years, the fights began to happen. People kept turning up, from this other rival organisation, to try and either recruit or kill our people. And at first, people were strong, they stayed with us, but soon, people were leaving. Because of him, Of Luke. Jocelyn was gone soon after that, and I knew that she couldn't have cared anymore about us.

"Now, there's a war that's about to happen. We know it's going to happen, and that's why we're getting as many people as we can."

"And what about Clary?" Jace said softly.

"Clary? She doesn't know. Father would never allow it. He's trying to protect her. She doesn't even know her mother is alive," Jonathan said bitterly.

Looking at Jonathan's face, the fake ease in the way he talked, the slight bitterness to that last sentence, Jace knew what he was thinking.

He wished he didn't know his mother was alive.

* * *

"She was there. She was goddamn there. I could have blown the whole thing if she saw me. No coloured contacts and glasses would have fooled her. For God's sake, she's my mother. And you know what the worst thing is? I think she knew. She knew that we were coming and so she sent Graymark away, to protect him," he spat at his father.

Protect Graymark the way she hadn't protected him.

He slammed the door in his father's shocked face before he could receive a response.

* * *

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